


Aladdin's Last Wish

by Imperator Mentus (ImperatorMentus)



Category: Aladdin (1992)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Genderswap, Harems, Hypnotism, Magic, Master/Slave, Mind Control, Sexual Slavery, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperatorMentus/pseuds/Imperator%20Mentus
Summary: After failing to steal the genie's lamp, Jafar uses magic and trickery to get his way.
Relationships: Aladdin/Jafar (Disney), Jafar/Jasmine (Disney)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 151





	Aladdin's Last Wish

Grand Vizier Jafar of Agrabah, one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the kingdom, could do nothing but pace and fume over that wretched, incompetent failure of a bird and his inability to steal from the worthless street rat. The lamp! He should have recognized at once that the troublesome so-called prince was but a lowly street rat. The same one he had tasked with retrieving the artifact. It was obvious now that the Lamp's powers were the source of his ridiculous pomp, and also the extravagant wealth displayed upon his arrival, but how was Jafar to have known? Who would have expected some miserable gutter trash to take the guise of a prince? Jafar had seen only in the dark, covered in dirt and dungeon filth. A far cry from the clean-cut princeling who now took up space in the palace.

In a way, this was most fortunate. He thought the Lamp lost when the cave collapsed, yet here it was in the palace itself. An infuriating obstacle, to be sure, but also a source of promise.

If he could but get his hands on it, these foul circumstances would be changed. The servant within would obey whoever held the Lamp, bound to the will of its master. With it, he would finally achieve the power and recognition he so deserved. No longer would he, the most clever and learned of men, be forced to placate the whims of fools.

But how? Guards had searched the room but found nothing. The lamp clearly kept on his person somewhere, but even Jafar's most trusted guards would refuse to detain a prince so favored by both sultan and populace. The bird too had been sent, but it proved incompetent as the rest. What now? There must be some way to claim that artifact.

From outside the room, the princess's sharp voice cut through his musings.

How shrill and unbecoming she could be. A sultry beauty like her ought be demure, seductive, a sensual delight for all to see. Or at least the eyes of her husband.

He had been so close, before that street rat intervened. The sultan would have given her to him, and Jafar would have claimed two triumphs in one. First, to become the aging, vulnerable fool of a sultan's clear successor, but also to gain possession of that delectable princess. Oh, she would have complained and fought, but he'd eagerly anticipated taming her fiery temper.

Jafar was unsure which part he would savor most. The enjoyment of her delightful body upon their marriage bed, or training that proud beauty into a proper wife. Both prospects filled him with equal joy.

All lost, shattered when the street rat's spectacle offered another option. Never mind that the wealth and power he displayed was but a vacuous construct, a mystical mirage conjured solely to vex Jafar's plans. It had impressed those dim witted fools on the streets, and gained the sultan's fickle favor.

His staff clinked loudly against the marble floor as he cursed both headstrong princess and pretender prince, both obstacles to his ambition.

His staff... That presented some possibilities.

The artifact had served him well before. So many at court were simple of mind and will. Almost too easy to grow in power and prestige. Alas that the princess had proved so stubborn and headstrong. The fascination of the serpent's eyes would ensnare her as readily as anyone, but accomplish little else. Unlike the pliable fool of a sultan, the princess would easily shake off any suggestions he delivered. Becoming, if anything, more stubbornly set than before. Fearing that she might grow suspicious, Jafar had been forced to halt such trials without a single attempt bearing fruit. In the end, his efforts had delivered naught but bitter frustration.

He wondered, however...what if she had another outlet for her fierce will? Some source to vent her ire upon?

The beginnings of a plan started to form.

The street rat. Jafar had not yet attempted it. He had no doubt the street rat's will was too strong for the staff. Or so it would be were the staff held in Jafar's hand.

The princess, however...

Yes, that filthy pretender of a street rat was helplessly smitten by the delightful princess. The foolish boy would be far more pliant to her will.

He would have to gain her cooperation of course, willing or otherwise, but how to go about it?

What was it that the headstrong princess so despised? Being controlled? No, more than that. Being manipulated. Yes, she had always thrown the most absurd tantrums at even the slightest hint of such, and what lovely deceptions that filthy street rat had played. How well, he wondered, would she respond to such betrayal?

The beginnings of a plan indeed.

Jasmine swept through the palace, her heart carried by a cloud. Though days had passed, her romantic evening with Prince Ali hung fresh and warm over her memory. This was the man she would marry, and Father had finally agreed to allow it!

The announcement would be soon, already arranged and scheduled. She could not wait to find Ali and tell him the good news.

"A word, princess," said an oozing, noxious voice.

"What do you want, Jafar?" she demanded, turning to face her father's loathsome advisor.

"Why, to congratulate you on your good news, of course," he said. "I hear that you are to be wed."

"Don't you have other people to bother?" Jasmine said, rebuffing his friendly advances.

"The wedding of the princess is certainly an important matter for the kingdom. It is only natural that those who care should be concerned that it is a proper match."

"You can keep your concerns," Jasmine said, stomping her slippered foot. "I love Prince Ali, and we are going to marry, and there is nothing you or anyone else can do about it."

Jasmine had been hoping to anger him, to see his twisted features grow upset. Perhaps he might even do something that could see him dismissed. Much as Jafar held her father's confidence, Prince Ali was loved by all. If Jafar tried to stop the union, his favor would surely fall.

Instead, for some reason, the sinister vizier looked amused by her outburst.

"True love is a commendable thing," he said, "but tell me, princess. Are you certain that he loves you back?"

"Of course he does!"

How could he not after the romantic moments they had shared, the moonlit carpet ride? Not to mention their time together in the marketplace. It bothered her that he had lied about his station, but surely that was a good thing? Most princes would never stoop so low as to dress up like a commoner. Ali was a just and humble prince, as fine a match as she could ever wish.

"But how can you be sure?" he asked, raising his staff close to her face.

Some instinct told Jasmine to turn away, only she no longer wanted to. The eyes were incredibly pretty, sparkling in the lamplight. Almost as if they had begun to glow themselves. The deep, rich color caught her eye, swirling and swirling down as it pulled her mind inward.

"What if the str- prince is lying to you?"

"Lying to me?" Princess Jasmine replied faintly, his voice and hers reaching only from far away as she watched the snake's eyes glow.

Watched, and listened, and heard what Jafar had to say.

Jafar enjoyed watching the lovely princess fall deeper under his power. Such a beautiful, nubile woman held captivated to his will stoked a tremendous lust within him. It was all Jafar could do not to tear off her clothes and take her where they stood.

He did not dare, not until she was fully his, but so long as he controlled himself that day was at hand.

"A man might say many things, to win the heart of a pretty woman," said Jafar.

He would know, though it was rarely the heart Jafar had sought. Especially in his own tempestuous youth, when flattery, charm, and empty promises meant that his bed was rarely empty long. This princess would be his greatest challenge, but what a prize she made.

"Ali- is not like that," Jasmine said sleepily. Deep under the serpent's spell, but still obstinate.

Though it gratified him deeply to see her succumb to his power, these were the most careful moments. One wrong word might break the spell, driving her away before his plan was complete. Though confusion and disorientation might ease her suspicions some, there was not telling when, or even if he might get another chance.

Fortunately, the princess took to his words even better than expected. How delightful. It seemed she might already be harboring some doubts. All the better for his schemes.

"Can you be sure, Princess? I fear that the prince has approached you under false circumstances."

"He- he wouldn't. Not again," she said.

Oh, so the street rat had already been caught in a lie? How marvelous,though she still believed him a prince. The time had arrived to show her just how lowly this wretched suitor was.

"How painful this must be," he said sympathetically. "No one ever wishes to be deceived. If only there were some way to test this."

"Test?" she asked hopefully.

Jafar smiled.

"I do have one idea," Jafar began carefully. "It is the only way to be sure that the prince is not lying to you."

"How?"

"First, you must go to him and announce that you and I are to be wed."

"But I don't want to marry you," she said, her voice becoming alarmingly vibrant. "I want Ali!"

"It is but a test," Jafar soothed her back into complacency. "You will not have to marry me unless this prince should prove himself false."

Unless. Jafar was priming her mind to accept only two options. Her beloved proved honest, or else accept Jafar as husband. She was so focused on Ali's fidelity that she did not realize what she agreed to, but her mind would keep it all the same.

Her waking mind would have caught it at once, and even entranced she would normally have rejected it soon after. Faced with her love's dishonesty, however, her stubborn resistance would not consider the matter until it was far too late.

"A test," she agreed absently.

"That's right," Jafar told her. "A test to see whether your prince speaks truly. You do wish to know if he is a liar, after all."

"Yes," she said, "must know."

"Good, good," he said, drawing closer, sliding behind.

His arm snaked around front, holding the staff close before her eyes. The other hand rested on her shoulder, touching her smooth, bare skin. Close, so maddeningly close. He could feel the warmth of her body, and the fire inside demanded he grasp her tight and take what he wanted here and now.

No matter. Such premature action would have disastrous consequences, and he had not made it so far without learning to delay his own gratification. He would have her, it was only a matter of waiting.

"Now listen closely, princess, and I will tell you exactly what to do and say."

Aladdin laid back on the couch, smiling as he rested in the mid-day sun. This was the life! An entire tray of food set out by palace servants. Meats, bread, tasty cheeses and all sorts of sauces and spreads. So much and so filling that he'd actually left half of it untouched. When was the last time he'd had a full stomach, let alone wasted food? Years, at least, and the guards wouldn't even chase him for it.

He kept expecting to wake up back in the slums, all this just a pleasant dream, but somehow never did. It was all so unreal. Somehow, Princess Jasmine actually cared about him. It was the most magical, unbelievable thing that had ever happened to him. A lifetime of disappointment had taught him to expect happiness to be fleeting, but for now Aladdin felt like the luckiest guy in the whole world.

"Ali," Jasmine called. "Are you there?"

"Jasmine!" he replied. "I'm over here."

He jumped off the couch, hurriedly sweeping any crumbs away. Was everything in place? Did he look princely? Aladdin felt the comforting weight of the lamp hidden away in his fine hat, a promise that everything would be all right. He had every intention of freeing the genie, but it was comforting to know that the last wish was always there, just in case.

They met at the gardens, just outside his suite. She looked absolutely radiant. The sunlight shone off her face, framing it in golden radiance like an angel of perfection. She was elegant, graceful, filled with a vitality and spirit unlike any woman he had ever known. His lips still could taste her mouth on his. How could they not? The kiss they shared was burned into his memory.

How she could come to love him, he would never know, but his heart was full of love for her.

"Is everything all right?" he asked. There was something odd about her. She was beautiful as ever, but looked distracted almost. Not upset or worried, just... off.

"Everything is fine," she said. "Father is going to make an announcement."

Aladdin looked down. She held something in her hands.

"Jafar's staff? Why do you have that?"

That treacherous snake. Was he plotting something? Aladdin had never trusted him. There was something about that man, something familiar about him that he couldn't quite place. Aladdin might not know why it triggered his instincts, but he was no stranger to betrayal and everything in him warned that the vizier was up to no good.

"He was just showing it to me. Why don't you have a look?"

She thrust the staff towards him, so fast and close that he pulled away. Even so, it was inches from his face, staring straight into his eyes.

Was it glowing?

"Stop," he said. "Something isn't right."

His hand shot up to grab it, instincts warning him away.

"Do you trust me?" Jasmine asked.

Aladdin froze.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?" she said again, more gently.

"Yes," he said, "absolutely."

"Then keep looking into the staff. Look deep down for me."

In any normal circumstance, Aladdin would have been far too quick and canny, but this was Jasmine, the woman he loved with his whole heart. He trusted her completely, and so looked closer. When the pull came, he did not fight it, but instead allowed himself to fall deep under its sway.

"Do you want to hear my big announcement?" she asked.

"Of course," he said, more flatly than usual as he willingly succumbed to the fascination.

The world, the palace, it had all faded from mind. Every sense of self and awareness stripped away by the power of the snakes, until all he saw was their glowing eye and all he could hear was the voice of his beloved, whose words he could trust totally and completely.

"It has been decided. I will marry Jafar."

"What? No!" Almost, this was enough of a shock to snap him out of it.

Almost, but not quite. She held the staff in front of his face, holding his mind under her sway even as she soothed away his cares.

"Don't worry," she said, "everything will be fine. This doesn't mean we cannot be together."

"It doesn't?" he said dumbly.

"No. A man like Jafar is expected to have many women. If you had some way to become a woman, you could ask to join his harem. Can you do that? Jafar thinks you have a way to do it."

"... don't want that. Want to marry you."

"But could you, if you wanted to?"

"I... yes, but-" he said, not thinking about what it meant to agree, or the implications involved. All he thought of was answering his beloved's question.

"Tell me."

"The genie," he said, still held rapt by the staff. "If I made a wish, he could do it."

"Like you wished to become a prince?" she said. There was a hardness to her voice, one that should have warned Aladdin if he weren't beyond such details.

"Yes," he said, "just like that."

Jasmine gasped as he admitted the deception. When she spoke again, there was a bitterness to her voice, an angry resolve that had not been present when the conversation started. Aladdin heard all this, but was not aware enough to comprehend.

"This genie. How do you summon him?"

"The lamp."

"Where is this lamp?" she asked.

"In my hat."

"Get it out," she commanded.

"Why?" he asked, even as he obeyed.

"So you can make your wish. To become a beautiful girl."

"I- no," he said. "I'm a man. I don't want to be a girl."

He blinked, and if it were anyone besides Jasmine asking, this is where it would have ended. Only, it was Jasmine, the one person he loved and trusted most in all the world. With her holding the staff, he could not quite fight out of its influence.

"Why not? I thought you wanted to be with me? Was that a lie too?"

"Of course not," he protested. "I do want to be with you, more than anything."

"Then why won't you make the wish?"

"Because I don't want to be a woman."

"You want to be with me, don't you?"

Jasmine held the staff even closer, more insistently.

"Yes."

"The only way to do that is by becoming a woman."

"Only way," Aladdin murmured, completely entranced.

"Then you want to become a woman."

"Want. to. Become. a woman?"

Aladdin shook his head slightly, but did not deny it.

"You want to become a woman so you can be with me."

"I want to become a woman so I can be with you," he repeated flatly.

"You want to become a woman."

"I want to become a woman."

Jasmine took the lamp, pushing it into his unresisting hands.

"You will take this lamp and wish to become a beautiful woman."

"Will wish.. become a beautiful woman."

"Say it again," she commanded.

"I will wish to become a beautiful woman."

"Again."

"I will wish to become a beautiful woman."

"Good," Jasmine said, finally removing the staff.

Aladdin blinked, disoriented. He was aware once more of his surroundings, but not fully awake. It still felt as if he were in something of a dream, disconnected from reality.

"Jasmine? What's going on?"

Why was he holding the lamp all of the sudden. Had he finally told her? Why was his head fuzzy?

"You were just about to make a wish, weren't you?"

"Oh, right," Aladdin said.

His hands moved like an automaton, rubbing the lamp. The genie appeared in a flash of light and smoke, clearly annoyed at being called. That bothered Aladdin for some reason, but he was still not thinking clearly.

"You know Al, I'm getting REAL sick of getting called out every time you have a - did I miss something?"

Aladdin knew at once what he was going say. Without thought or contemplation, the notion simply bubbled to the top of his head.

"Genie," he said at once, "I wish to become a beautiful woman."

The genie's jaw dropped. Literally, all the way to the floor. He had to bend down and pick it up in order to speak again.

"Ok, that- was NOT how I expected this to go."

Aladdin shook his head, confused. Had he really just made that wish? Why did it feel so right. Like it was his own idea, but not really. He just had to do it because... reasons. Because he wanted to be with Jasmine, but how did that make sense?

The genie shifted, paging through a thick tome while a long white coat formed around him.

"You know, there's usually a process to this. A few months of therapy, maybe go out in public dressed up once or twice, try out a few veils and see where it goes from there? Anything?

"Come on Al old buddy, work with me here. You're looking a little under the weather today, are you sure you're feeling all right? Was it a joke? Ha-ha, very funny, but seriously Al, you gotta speak up. A wish is a wish, you know that, right?"

This was wrong, he didn't want to be a woman, not really. Only, it was what he had asked for, and something in him insisted that it was necessary. The wish had come so easily, he barely even thought about it. So obvious at the time, but he couldn't explain why.

"I- I have to," he said.

He would do anything for Jasmine. Even this.

Only, why would this help Jasmine?

"This doesn't feel right," the genie said. "It's like you're under some kinda crazy voodoo spell here. Snap out of it!"

The genie shifted and flashed between shapes. Appearing briefly as a glassy-eyed green tinged zombie, then into a hunched figure crouched over a bubbling cauldron, before shifting back to normal once more. It had no effect on Aladdin.

"You heard him, djinn," Jasmine said, "get to it."

"You too, princess?" he protested, but slowly raised his finger, looking away as if unwilling to watch the effect. "Last chance Al. Gotta speak up now, or it's all out of my hands. A wish is a wish."

Swirling blue light shot out from Genie's finger, enveloping Aladdin completely. He felt the magic course through his body, shifting and changing it rapidly. His ornate, princely robes were suddenly enormous on him, drooping and dragging in comically oversized fashion. The hat fell to the floor, soon replaced by a new weight as long black tresses grew from his head. There was a tingling, twisting feeling as his body and frame pinched and pulled, reshaping itself completely. His crotch felt warm, excited even, but instead of growing like when he and Jasmine cuddled watching fireworks, it began to pull inward. Seconds later it had vanished entirely in a wrenching, but not entirely unpleasant way. Then his insides were moving, shaping themselves inside his body.

Aladdin felt a panging sadness. Not just for what he had lost, but for the future it had cost. He and Jasmine had not gone further than a simple kiss, but he had dreamed of more, and now they would never-

Why had he done this, again?

The changes to his body were complete. That familiar form was gone now, replaced by one of a feminine stranger.

His clothing shifted, all of the baggy looseness gone as it pulled to his new figure. The fit was different, unlike anything he had ever worn. It clung to him in ways a man's clothing never would. The white garment resembled his princely robes in style and fabric, but that was where the similarities ended. This version was cut tight, as the old one had never been. Cut close to her chest, highlighting cleavage in ways that were new and alarming. There was a divide at the waist, a gap that showed her slim belly, ending in a flowing white skirt.

The outfit was strange and alien, so unlike himself. But it was what he had wished for, and Aladdin still didn't understand why.

"Look at you," Jasmine said, "you turned out so beautiful. Jafar is going to love you."

Jafar? What did that snake have to do with this?

"But I did it for you?" he said, surprised by the sound and feel of his new voice.

"Of course you did," she told him. "For now, anyway."

"I don't understand," he said, beginning to panic. "Why did I do this? Nothing makes sense."

He reached for the lamp, intending to call back the now vanished genie, only to remember that was no longer an option. He'd used his last wish, the one he saved for emergencies, the one that was supposed to wish Genie free. Why had he spent it on this?

"Shhh..." Jasmine said. "Just look deep, and everything will make sense."

Once again her eyes were caught by the serpent glow of the staff, as Jasmine held it up to her face. All worries melted away, replaced by slack eyed fascination.

"This is what you wanted."

"What I-" Aladdin started to repeat. "No. This isn't-"

"You wanted to be with me, right?"

"Wanted to be with you."

"That's right. The only way you can be with me is in Jafar's harem, and only girls can join his harem. So that means you want to be a girl."

"I... want to be a girl?"

"Good job. Say it again."

"I want to be a girl," Aladdin said, more confidently this time.

"Since the only way you can stay with me is in Jafar's harem, so you want to be a harem girl."

"I want to be a harem girl," said Aladdin. Uncertain, but not so much as before.

"Whose harem?"

"... Jafar's?"

"Very good," she said. "Now tell me again what you want to be."

"I want to be Jafar's harem girl."

"Perfect," Jasmine said. "Now since that's exactly what you wished for, it means you're very happy about it."

"I am?"

"Of course you are. You just got your wish, didn't you? Weren't you happy the last time the genie gave you a wish? When you tricked me into thinking you were a prince? Did that wish make you happy?"

"So happy."

That's right. Getting what you wished for makes you happy. You just wished to be a girl so that you could join me in Jafar's harem after I wed, didn't you?"

"I did wish to become a girl."

He still didn't quite understand why. The confusion was there, but his head was too muddled to think, and Jasmine had an answer for him. It was an answer his scattered mind fought against - he hated Jafar - but Jasmine sounded completely certain, and Aladdin trusted her so much.

"That's right, you got your wish to become a girl, so now you can join Jafar's harem. Getting your wish makes you happy. You are happy to become Jafar's harem girl."

"I... I'm happy to become Jafar's harem girl."

The words started to sink in. Aladdin's subconscious fought against it, but his resolve cracked and crumbled from Jasmine's certainty. The thought of joining any harem, much less Jafar's, was insane. But that's what he'd wanted, wasn't it? Why else would he have made that wish? Yes, this was exactly right. He should be happy to finally get his wish.

Maybe he was happy. Just a little bit.

Jasmine repeated it again and again, deepening Aladdin's resolve until not the slightest trace of hesitancy remained, until all answers came clear and assured, proclaiming her certainty and joy at the prospect of feminine servitude.

But they were not done. Jafar had given Jasmine many delicious suggestions. "You trust me, yes?"

"Of course," Aladdin said dreamily. Once that would have made Jasmine happy. Now, she drew satisfaction from how deliciously vulnerable that trust had made the 'prince'.

"I have lived with the girls of the harem all my days. I know them well."

"You know them well," Aladdin agreed distantly.

"You want to be a harem girl, so I will teach you." A slow nod from the dreaming girl. Jasmine built on the foundation already laid, with simple syllogisms. "A harem girl is obedient," she declared.

The ensorcelled Aladdin repeated the words. "A harem girl is obedient."

"You are a harem girl."

"I am a harem girl," Aladdin repeated again, a smile flickering on her face. Being a harem girl made her happy.

"You are obedient."

"I am obedient," Aladdin declared. That just made sense... didn't it?

"You are an obedient harem girl."

"I am an obedient harem girl," Aladdin declared, the slight smile returning. She was happy to be a harem girl - so she was happy to be obedient. Wasn't she?

Jasmine kept 'instructing' her student. More thoughts were added, more concepts attached to the idea of 'harem girl'. In her mind, Jasmine could clearly see the shape of Aladdin's new existence. So clearly that she did not pause to consider where that image had come from.

Aladdin had complete faith in her words, learning what kind of girl she had wished to be. Thanks to Jasmine, she discovered that she wanted, fiercely, to be the best harem girl. Delightful in all ways.

Therefore she rejoiced in being obedient, compliant, submissive. She adored being pretty, alluring, girly, feminine. She ached to wear silks and lace and perfume. She loved to adorn herself with cosmetics and jewelry. She longed to walk and dance and sing enticingly. She craved exciting and entertaining the lord of the harem in all manner of performances.

A harem girl was all these things, Jasmine assured her. And Aladdin was so happy to be a harem girl...

"See," Jasmine said once they were finished and she withdrew the staff from the new girl's vision. "Doesn't that feel much better?"

"It does," Aladdin said. "Thank you, Jasmine."

"Don't mention it," she said with a wicked smile. "Now, you want to become a better harem girl, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Aladdin said without hesitation. "I want to be the best harem girl for Jafar."

She pouted, ever so slightly. That didn't sound entirely right, but also was true in ways impossible to describe. It didn't make sense, but she knew these truths the same instinctive way she knew that some streets were unsafe to linger in, or certain nooks could be counted on for a safe place to sleep. There was something wrong with this, something that didn't fit, but Aladdin was in no shape to question.

"Then follow me," Jasmine said, "Those clothes do look beautiful on you, but they aren't appropriate. You're a harem girl, not a princess, and it's time we fixed that."

Aladdin followed without protest. A harem girl was obedient, after all.

Jasmine felt a deep sense of satisfaction as she led the new woman to her chambers. The sense of outrage never really went away, but was instead channeled into a very specific desire to see her deceiver brought down and humiliated for her transgressions.

That the lie, in truth, had been a fairly small thing - one she might easily forgive in time - did not occur to Jasmine. She only knew the very real outrage of a woman who had been deceived and manipulated. To think she had almost come to love Ali!

It also never quite occurred to Jasmine that this particular punishment was far from her usual preference. That it made no real sense to mold this girl into Jafar's obedient plaything, or to take such malicious glee in it. Not at all in keeping with Jasmine's usual character, but she never once stopped to consider.

The princess was many things. Brash, kindhearted, headstrong, and independent minded, but she was not known for careful patience or well laid plans. Jasmine tended to act first, following her desires and wishes, and only later - if at all - worrying about the how and why.

Right now, she cared only that Ali be punished, and that she had "come up with" a very clever way to turn things around on the man - former man - who had tried to cheat his way into her heart.

"It isn't right for a cute harem girl like you to have a masculine name like Aladdin. From now on, I think I am going to call you Alana. Lana for short."

The girl blushed, but finally acquiesced once Jasmine reminded her that a pretty girl needed a pretty, girly name to go with.

"Now get out of those clothes, they're too good for a harem girl like you," she said as soon as they reached Jasmine's private quarters.

Alana did so, clearly uncomfortable with her new body, yet still oddly happy about her transformation. She struggled to undo the unfamiliar, womanly clothing, and after several amusing minutes watching her struggle, Jasmine stepped in to help.

Silly Lana. If she had only been honest and true, they might have done this in a very different way. Her lovingly undressing Ali after a passionate night of romance. If only it had not been built on a foundation of lies. The girl deserved everything that was happening to her. Becoming Jafar's obedient slave girl was the perfect punishment.

She was well formed, though. Lushly curved, with smooth skin and ample features that Jasmine knew from firsthand experience many men craved. There was some resemblance to the Ali of old, but only because she knew to look for it. This version was a sultry, feminine beauty. Had she been born on the streets, she would have been bound for one of the many pleasure houses, dressed in silks and perfumes to await the pleasures of Agrabah's many men.

A very similar fate awaited her now, except that she would be the property of but one single man. One whose careful consideration had revealed Ali's duplicity.

Jasmine knew exactly which outfit to dress her in. One of her own, yes, but one far from her normal everyday wear. This had been commissioned in secret, meant to prove - to herself if no one else - that she was a child no longer. That Jasmine was an adult, with adult desires and an adult sensuality.

She had dared wear it only once. It had been terrifying, thrilling, exciting in ways she did not quite understand. It was supposed to be a secret known only to her, but Jafar had chanced upon her and seen the princess wearing it. Just once, and he had not said anything, but something in the way he looked at her kept Jasmine from ever trying it again.

It would suit Alana perfectly.

The outfit was bright, passionate red. The color of energy, and desire. Not romance, exactly, but something more primal, something that spoke more to instinct than emotion. Alana's eyes grew wide and fearful as she regarded it... but once she touched the silken cloth, she became eager to put it on.

The leggings sat well on her hips, dipping suggestively low at the front. The top was something else altogether. It left the arms completely bare. No straps, no ties, nothing to hold it up save for a slight figure-hugging twist and its own tightness.

Yes, this was a thing of sensuality, of desire, an outfit commissioned to inflame men's interest. And now Ali- Alana was wearing it.

She filled it nicely. The former prince stared down in wonder at herself, obviously amazed by the radical transformation.

Alana looked so unsure and vulnerable like this. Confused and uncertain both with her new form, and the conflicting feelings stirred by her circumstances. Vulnerability was good, Jasmine would enjoy watching her delivered to Jafar with it intact, but uncertainty was not. Jasmine wanted her to be broken down and remade, sure of her proper place in life.

Fortunately, Jafar he had warned her that the 'prince' might come to a moment of realization, of resistance. He had given her the proper tools for this. Alana's eyes glazed as the glowing staff consumed her focus. She no longer struggled; she had come to associate the staff with peace, with relief from confusion.

In a way, Jasmine almost felt jealous of her. The way she succumbed, surrendering to the all-consuming sway of its power. There was something deliciously naughty about it, and a part of her longed to submit to its control.

Perhaps, if she were lucky, Jafar might turn it on her once he was finished with Alana.

"Tell me what you are," she commanded.

"I am a harem girl," Alana said. There was a trace less enthusiasm than when she had started, but the words came quickly, well practiced.

"A harem girl is a slave," Jasmine stated with firmness.

"A harem girl is a slave," Alana droned slowly. She sensed a wrongness... but repeating Jasmine's words was deeply ingrained now. And though she hadn't thought of it until this moment - or hadn't wanted to? - it was the truth. Harem girls were slaves.

"You are a harem girl."

"I am a harem girl." Confident, undoubting. That she was sure of.

Jasmine continued, unrelenting. "So, you are a slave."

Alana frowned, but after a moment agreed, "I am a slave." She couldn't dispute the 'logic'.

"Again."

"I am a slave." No enthusiasm, but the beginning of acceptance.

Jasmine shifted her attack. "Whose harem girl are you?"

"Jafar's," said Alana.

"Who is your master?"

"I- master? I don't have a -"

"Jafar is your master," Jasmine told her.

"He is?"

"You are Jafar's harem girl. You are his slave. He is your master."

"Oh."

"Tell me who your master is."

"Jafar?" she said, still uncertain.

"Again. In full. Not just who he is. Tell me what he is. It will feel good to say it."

"Jafar is my master," Alana said shyly.

"You don't sound sure. Again!"

"Jafar is my master," she repeated.

Without letting go of the staff, Jasmine took hold of a newly slender hand. She placed the girl's fingers on a nipple, and induced her to rub it gently through the sheer fabric. She smiled to see the other nipple quickly make a tiny tent on the other side.

"Repeat."

"Jafar is my master." Was there a slight breathiness in her voice?

"Again!" She brought Alana's other hand up, too. Languidly, wonderingly, the girl stroked and rubbed her bosom. Heedless of any who might see.

"Jafar is my master." Definitely a husky note now.

"I told you it would feel good to say it," Jasmine smirked. "Again."

With each repetition, Alana's words grew more frantic, more passionate as Jasmine introduced her to the pleasures of her new body. Jasmine encouraged her submission, stoking her desires further and further as she deepened Alana's sense of obedience and devotion.

Alana gasped, "Jafar is my master!" Her hips moved slightly, her thighs clenched... but she didn't know yet how to effectively respond to her maidenly excitement.

Jasmine took her hand once more. This time reaching lower, she guided it to the girl's nethers, intending to acquaint her with the most intimate parts of her new body.

"A harem slave delights in submitting to her master. Who is your master?"

"Jafar is my master!" Breathless.

"A harem girl knows who her owner is. Who owns you?"

"Jafar owns me!" Alana squeaked, fingers working clumsily between her legs. The sheer fabric posed little barrier, though it was becoming damp.

"Who do you belong to?"

"I belong to Jafar!" Almost a wail... but of longing, not despair.

"A harem slave exults in pleasing her master. Who will you pleasure?"

"I will p-pleasure Jafar!" Alana panted.

"A harem slave desires her owner. What is your master's name?"

"Jafar is my master!" Breathless.

When she was quite wet and ready, but before satisfaction or release, Jasmine stopped, and withdrew the staff. Some awareness returned to Alana's eyes, but she still seemed bewildered, uncomprehending.

Now Jasmine began applying cosmetics, jewelry, and all the other fine, feminine touches that would take her from gorgeous to exquisite, all the while savoring the fact that it was brash, manly Ali who was being dressed in such feminine things. Alana displayed only occasional moments of hesitation, her instruction coming to the fore. A harem girl loved to decorate herself, after all, and she was a harem girl.

As a finishing touch, Jasmine drew a thin, gauzy veil across Alana's face. It did absolutely nothing to hide her features, but lent an air of womanly mystery to the former man.

At last, she was ready.

Aladdin's - or rather, Alana's - life had taken on a strange, dreamlike quality over the past hour. She walked in a haze, allowing herself to be guided complacently by Jasmine.

How had it come to this? How could she possibly have wound up wearing such feminine, revealing things, paraded about for all the world - or at least all the palace - to see?

It was humiliating. Alana could not help but notice how differently everyone treated her. As Ali, she had been given a mix of hostility and respect. Plenty of people had looked down on him, or at least opposed him, but as Alana she was a complete nonfactor. An object of interest, not a subject of calculation.

An object of very much interest, judging from the looks men gave her. Even as those looks stirred fear and shame... they also brought a strange thrill at this evidence of her comeliness. She - adored being pretty? That sounded right, somehow. And yet wrong...

Here she was, dressed in the alluring silks of a harem girl. Veiled and painted. This was her own doing, it was what she had chosen, what she had done to herself of her own free will. Why could she not remember any reasons for it?

Jasmine led her to the throne room, but there was no evidence of the sultan. Instead, it was Jafar seated on the throne.

That bastard. How dare he marry Jasmine. Aladin hated him with all of his heart. And yet...

At the same time, there was something about him. Something compelling; domineering almost. It made her feel small and meek, every bit the woman that she had been turned into. He was... masterful, that was the word. A man of status and stature, a man to be owned by.

Wait, what was that last? Her head still had not fully cleared by the time Jasmine led her to the foot of the throne. Just below eye level, even though he was seated. She tried to stare him down, but could only yield. Her eyes lowered demurely.

As they did, something else stirred within. Some treacherous, maidenly impulse that made her painfully, exquisitely conscious of her newfound femininity. Alana became keenly aware of the cool skin her outfit left bare. Her chest rose and fell with every breath, and Alana suddenly noticed exactly how her top shifted and pulled as it moved, the places that it clung to her body, and the places it exposed.

A new desire slowly rose. An urge to be touched, to have her body held and stroked by another. This was madness. How could she be feeling such things?

"It seems the street rat has now become a mouse," Jafar spoke, his voice dripping with superiority and disdain.

"Will you tame easily, my little mouse?" he continued. "I look forward to feeling you squirm beneath me."

Each word dripped with lewd suggestion and dismissive triumph. His arousal was clear, as was what he intended to do with her. Something in his face, his sneering features managed to pierce through the haze that had been clouding Alana's mind.

She had possessed a strong will... once. Hadn't she?

"Jafar?" she said. "What? I can't - I won't - Why would I?"

Horror began to dawn as she realized just how thoroughly she had been ensnared, and the full weight of what she had done to herself began to crash down. What could have possessed her to take part in this? How could she have ever imagined wanting to serve that disgusting, oily old-

"Alana!" Princess Jasmine's voice cut through confusion and realization alike. "What is your master's name?"

"Jafar is my master."

No hesitation.

"What are you?"

"I am my master's harem slave."

It was very, very easy to let things fall into place, to trust Jasmine and accept the truths that came so readily to her lips. Alana still did not understand what was happening, but unassailable instinct knew things that understanding could not. Jafar was her master. It became a lifeline, an anchor amidst the confusion.

Jafar was her master. He was slimy, crooked, untrustworthy. He was her master. They had quarreled, and somehow he had stolen Jasmine away. He was her master. Alana was pretty sure he'd tried to have her killed, the one behind those rogue guards who made an attempt on her life. Didn't matter, he was her master.

Master. The very word was somehow like a hand at her new sex...

How could she be feeling these strange, womanly sensations? Why did the thought of him stir her freshly-formed loins so deeply? How could she possibly desire another man's touch?

Not just any man. He was her master, and it was only natural for a pretty slave girl to desire her owner.

Alana knelt before her Master.

Jafar stared in triumph as his greatest rival dropped to her knees before him, turned into his devoted slave at the hands of a former love. A love who was all too obviously enjoying her former paramour's debasement.

"You have done a fine job training the lovely mouse," he told the princess, "Why don't you teach her the rest of her duties."

Jafar watched eagerly as the princess instructed her pupil to draw aside his robes of state and retrieve his cock. He almost laughed at the sight, that these were the headstrong princess and brash prince who had vexed him so. Now that so-called prince was but a gorgeous, feminine plaything, while the princess's vast will was turned only towards punishing her former love.

The delightful mingling of horror, wonder, revulsion, and desire that alternated in the street mouse's face were a joy to behold. The part of her that had once been a man recoiled from such thoughts, and yet was drawn to it all the same. He would nurture those feelings with much careful practice.

Neither did he miss the guarded interest shown by the Princess when she thought he was not looking. Though he knew full well she possessed her own deep sensuality, her innocence had been carefully guarded. This may well have been the first time she ever laid eyes on a man's member. To think, mere hours ago she had been his fiercest opponent.

Fortune favored the clever.

"There are many ways a woman can bring pleasure to a man," Jasmine began, "through her body, her words, her motions. Through gentle hands or warm holes, but also with her mouth."

"Her mouth?"

"Yes, Alana. Surely you are not ignorant of such things. You, of all women, should know how best to please a man's staff."

This too had been part of his instructions, though the princess no doubt believed the words her own.

"I- can I?"

"Why not ask your master?"

The street mouse looked up, lovely eyes wide with desire and trepidation.

"Master?" she said. "May I use my mouth to please you?"

"You may," he said, grabbing hold of her lustrous hair and guiding her head onto his lap.

Now he did laugh openly, savoring the sheer triumphant irony of the situation. Here was the great Prince Ali, who had boldly courted the princess and nearly won her hand. Brash, defiant, a self professed enemy of Jafar. Now, the transformed street rat had her lips wrapped obediently around Jafar's cock.

Her efforts were unskilled and faltering, but with a dedication and growing enthusiasm that matched the triumph of the situation quite well. This was, after all, not just any palace whore. It was a former man transformed via Jafar's cunning manipulations.

"And what of me?" Jasmine asked.

"You? You may come give your future husband a kiss."

There was the faintest hesitation. Though it bruised Jafar's ego to admit it, the princess still did not desire him, nor did she truly want to be his wife. However, she was now conditioned to seek him out purely as a kind of spite. Each moment of tenderness or affection another way of punishing the indiscreet street rat.

That was more than enough for now. True desire could always come later, so long as Jafar was able to enjoy her now.

Jasmine's lips pressed strongly against his as he at last took hold of the woman he so deeply coveted, free at last to touch and feel that luscious body so long been denied him. She did not yet yearn for him, but that would come later. For now, it was enough that he possess her.

"Yes, I love it when you touch me," Jasmine moaned somewhat too loudly. "Feel my breasts, Jafar. No man has ever held them before."

Ah, so it was at the street rat that her words and actions were directed. Another barb from the jilted princess, informing her lover that Jafar should be allowed liberties never given to the street rat. How very interesting. This was not something he had commanded of her.

The street rat - Alana, was it? A suitable apellation... - faltered briefly, but then renewed her efforts. If anything, her ministrations were more determined. Oh ho, so it was to be a competition for his favor, then? If so, Jafar was happy to oblige.

His fingers snaked beneath the princess's waistband, seeking out her waiting slit. Well moistened already? The princess was clearly more engaged by this than he'd thought. Funny, it was clear that her passions were not for himself yet, but the thought of feminizing and humiliating her former love obviously excited her.

Very interesting. He would have to store away that bit for later.

In the meantime, Alana's efforts were beginning to bear fruit. Jafar clutched tight at her head, pulling the helpless woman down upon him.

"Drink it down," he commanded, "every last drop."

Despite her surprise and shock, the little street mouse obeyed.

When it was over, he pulled her up upon his lap. The princess was not pleased by this addition, but responded only by clinging tighter. The body she had once jealously guarded now pressed possessively against him. Once, she had stubbornly scorned him, but now she fiercely sought after his affections. Jafar pulled her closer for another deep kiss, fondling the street mouse's impressive bosom even as he passionately kissed her former love, and there was nothing she could do except complaisantly accept Jafar's touch.

She had turned out even more beautiful than anticipated, a fine and fitting match for the lovely princess. Jafar recalled with vast amusement what the Guardian of the Cave of Wonders had called the street rat - "the Diamond in the Rough".

There was not a single thing 'rough' about Alana. All had been polished away save that which was pleasing and winsome. The fate of this 'diamond' was to be the jewel of his harem.

She proved this as he broke off kissing the princess. Scarcely a moment passed before Alana twined her dainty fingers in his beard and pulled him in gentle invitation for a kiss, a saucy gleam in her eye. Her tongue was shy and yielding, yet also teasing and flirtatious.

The ambition and intelligence of the street rat had been inconvenient - dangerous, in fact. Victorious now, Jafar savored the marvelous prospect of all that passion and cunning directed exclusively to his pleasure.

"So, my darlings," he said, "shall we retire to my chambers?"

Jafar had intended to wish for the sultanate once he gained the lamp, but why bother? With the princess at hand and his only rival an obedient slave, magic was not needed. Married to the princess, he would easily succeed the sultan as heir. In the meantime it would be little trouble to sway the pliable ruler into an acceptable puppet.

No, he had a different wish in mind. The street rat's first efforts had been enjoyable, but he was not satisfied yet. Not even close.

It would take supernatural stamina and potency to keep up with these two beauties and break them in properly, but Jafar knew exactly where to get it.

Later. His own wishes on the lamp would come in time. For now, it was best to enjoy the fruits of that street rat's final request, and the satisfaction of a plan well laid.


End file.
